our demons are all around us and they don't come from hell
every single one of them reminds us of ourselves
every single one of them reminds us of ourselves
Brunhild did not fight her darkness in the same way that Rodrik does.
She did not rail against it, throw fists to the ground in anger. She had long come to accept the way it twisted through her veins and settled in her chest; she had come to accept the way it had molded her throughout the years, made her sharp and vicious when need be. She was not a particularly cruel mare, but neither was she as particularly warm one. She was cool, distant, and self-contained. The only true time she got excited was at the prospect of battle. In fact, her thirst for showing up on the battlefield was what had earned her Quark’s attention in the first place, and it was what had earned the numerous scars that riddled her dark, muscular body.
So she was not a fool. She did not think the red stallion by her side was some saint, and she did not expect him to act in such a manner. She knew he had blood on his hands in much the same way as she. It did not bother her—it had never bothered her. From the first time that they had met, she had looked past all of that to see the man he was inside. The man who loved those close to him, who obeyed his own moral code.
The man who did right by kingdom, even when it meant making the tough decisions.
She laughed a little at his proclamation and reached over to nip at him, pinching perhaps a little harsher than was necessary—although that was always the way with them. “You need all kinds of things, Rodrik.” Her husky voice filled the space between them. “Food, air,” her dark eyes sparked with a rare humor. “Etc. etc.” Still, her stomach twisted at the words. She had never thought that she would have love in her life. She had been born and bred for war. She had been raised as a warrior, trained as one, and then left to serve as a warrior Queen. She had not been ever given the luxury of love or even friendship. To have found it, and with him? It was a miracle.
“We are doing well,” she grunted, shifting her growing body. It was difficult to get used to the extra weight and hard to imagine why mares put themselves through it every year. “I swear it feels as though he is going to come out full size.” She cherished these moments, carrying Rodrik’s child, but she still could not wait until she had her own body back, to be in control of it once more. “Tell me more of Pangea, Rodrik.”
Her heavy head swung out the grey wasteland. “Why did you choose to make this our home?”